Cruelty and the Beast
by Glass Bullet
Summary: The pernicious 'relationship' of Knives and Legato.
1. Scar One

This is the** ONLY **warning I am going to include. This story is intended to be graphic, focusing on the darker side of this pairing. If you can't handle violence, don't read this. If you don't like yaoi, don't read this. Some parts are not nearly as good as the original due to removal of several sentences, so I'm sorry if some doesn't exactly 'flow' together ( the unedited version with the extra chaptercan be found at the usual site). I don't own Trigun.. -

* * *

_-_Scar One- 

It did not tremble with fear of the pain it might inflict, but with the excitement that pain would be inflicted. Its metal teeth were ready to work for the fingertips that lingered so closely to its mouth, the sweaty prints left on its neck in place of a limb were such a delightful tease. The time was then, the hand brought down that plate mouth onto the flesh - and it did not hesitate to cut precisely with every intended stroke. It swallowed that red sea and ran down for more. He smiled to himself, closed eyes shutting out the scene. This was not death. This was release. The blade was taken away and replaced by cold hands that massaged the cut, spread the skin apart so that more of the liquid flowed through. Legato did all he could not to scream, to flail against it, to cry for it to stop. His Master was _touching_ him, and ever-so-delicately; the pain was a reward. He closed his eyes as he felt another smooth metal edge on his abdomen, preparing for the action with a small wince. This one was not as deep as the first, but it ranged across all of him as if to split him in half. There was no doubt in the back of his mind that its intention could have very well been to sever one part from the other, knowing that his position was nothing above a worn plaything.

_"Legato,"_ the unearthly voice jolted into his mind,_ "Open your eyes. Look at me."_

He did as he was told, greeting the icy gaze with wide eyes that resembled dew flecked marigolds.

_"Did you enjoy it?"_ He asked so prettily, innocently, His eyes flickering with something akin to amusement; not quite. But there was reluctance in that other body, a desire to answer filled only with obediant, pleasing silence. He knew his Master was not referring to the slicing of the tender flesh, but the act that had displeased Him, a night spent with the Hornfreak. The Plant's body bent lissomely forward, like a stretching cat flexing its claws and licking its mouth, to close the gap. Hot and so, so sweet, the tongue glided back between the aching and trembling lips of the human, tracing the outline at an agonizingly slow speed. The anticipation alone could have killed him. Legato tensed at the fabric moving over the newly made wounds but continued to lay still for his Master, who seemed content with the simple and less laborous affectionate gestures. The pale God cared little for what Legato needed, and even less for what he wanted. No matter how many times he had begged - no; _pleaded_ - with all of his bleeding and mangled body, Knives would never take him. Each touch was casual and drawn out for emphasis, but encounters with the Master, whether they became more violent or even when they became very sexual, were never intimate.

The thought crossed his mind - to pray, ask for just a moment of release - which he regretted immediately. Drawing backward, the Plant raked the metal of the razor down His captive's side, the angle perfected through practice to know just how deep, just how much pressure was needed to catch on a rib bone. Unable to stop himself, Legato cried out, body writhing reflexively against the grip in a feeble attempt to get away. Knives pushed the serrated blade further and watched the cut leak red life onto the floor. That uncherished creature was as close to flawless as a human could become. He saw it in those burning eyes; past the devotion, agony, rejection of his own kind.. a monologue he would never be able to speak, worded perfectly in his mind. His confession of mortal but unconditional love. What was it, He wondered, that kept Legato clinging to Him so helplessly? Surely by now His slave had tired of serving, as all humans are plagued with that terrible lethargy as they become older and more useless. But no.. he could be taken from the desert on the edge of insanity, sculpted and crucified with the power of a plant, and still have a piece of humanity plunged where it cannot be dug out. Devoted as ever, and it grew with each moment, becoming more of a disease than a simple emotion. It was a part of him. Both of them.

Knives withdrew the weapon, tossing it aside as he stood up. "Get out. And this time, keep in mind who you belong to."

_-_

The dark haired musician frowned. "You're in trouble?"

Legato nodded as the door shut behind him, walked past the outstretched arms. "You will be too if you don't go."

Midvalley sighed, half in disappointment and half in acknowledgement. "I'll see you later, then -"

"No," the telepath quickly interrupted. "Master has made it exceedingly clear that ..socializing.. with you is no longer an option."

"Since when -"

"Please go, Midvalley."

It was understood without anymore words. Hornfreak left, standing outside the door a moment before lighting a ciagrette and continuing down the hallway. He knew damn well what it all came down to: if he cared, he would leave him alone. Even those who had not seen _Him_ angry knew better than to spark that easily coerced, infamously violent rage. And everyone was aware of the punishment he often recieved for the failure of anyone and everyone else - including the absent twin. The only person who did not acknowledge it was Legato. To him, it was a necessary part of his daily servitude, which seemed to fascinate his Master even more than his unemotional behavior.


	2. Laceration Two

-Laceration Two-__

The large room was void of all sound, save the labored breathing of Legato Bluesummers, who lay upon the cold floor anxiously awaiting his Master's move. That other body was searching through a drawer of favorite toys, carefully deciding which would be the next to greet the human's skin. The gold eyes widened at the sight of what Knives returned with: a small plastic coated glass container, set slowly to the side, and steel cuffs, which his Master wasted no time in snapping around one of his wrists. The chain was slipped around the post of the bed frame, between the mattress and the floor, before the other cuff was secured around the human's second wrist. Obviously whatever the plan was, his squirming, although often reflexive, would not be tolerated.

This game was not merely for amusement it seemed, as the Plant removed the cap of the tube with a stern look on his face. Perhaps it was punishment, or a test of some kind. Tolerance and silence were the only two virtues Legato was familiar with. A small, shuttering breath escaped the throat as the liquid dripped onto thin flesh. The trail led down from the jugular to the collar bone, hitting with a sickening _hiss_, scarring almost instantly. This was the first and only pain he had ever found to be unpleasant; the smell of the skin, then_ muscle_, searing and contaminating his lungs. Every little _drip_ was intended to land where the skin was sorest, causing the taut, untanned chest to wretch back, spinal cord cracking occasionally as it was bent with the swift responses. Each strain pleased his Master, the crystalline stare seeming to laugh at the being it held. The acid was allowed to sit, burning as it did so, until the relieving strokes of a wet cloth finally alleviated the pain. It was all foreplay, in a sense - something to excite him, bring him into whatever mental state he needed.

"Weak." A single word that could hurt more than the punishment itself. Knives made sure Legato could see Him eye to eye, ducking just a bit, and taking note of the human's shudder - anticipation, fear. He unlocked and removed the cuffs, exchanging them for an object that flashed briefly in His hand. "Why do I bother keeping you alive, Bluesummers?"

"Because I can bring you your brother, Mast -" His sentence ended with a gurgling, half muffled groan as a blade was swiped across his throat. His hands reflexively reached to cover it, but even as his fingers attempted to hold it together somehow, he could only watch the dark liquid seep uncontrollably.

"You haven't. Give me another reason."

Legato looked at Him helplessly, lips unresponsive, mind frozen. There had been few times where he had found himself in a similar situation of jeopardy, and although he would have been able to list hundreds upon hundreds of tasks he had completed for his Master, he could not think of a single other reason for his usefulness. _"I am loyal to you, Master."_

Knives frowned slightly, looking for something more poetic perhaps, but brought the wet cloth up to the wound. "Are you?"

The slave did his best to nod, coughing blood onto sleeve of his Master, who responded by slapping him with enough force to dislocate his jaw. For a moment he continued to wretch on his side, pain shooting from one nerve-ending to the other. That last look of disgust chilled him to the core, a glance that spoke louder than the ungodly, resonating voice; pure repulsion. The Plant tore the fabric of His sleeve from the elbow down, gaze still locked with the aurum one. He threw down the contaminated cloth at Legato, who could only wince in response as the room began to get dimmer. Was he finally going to ..? No, he didn't have that luxury. Soon someone would be ordered to clean him up, apply the appropriate stitches, while his Master laughed silently in the background.


	3. Broken Bone Three

-Broken Bone Three-

As far back as he could remember, the sure sign of success was a ceased heartbeat. Legato could remember the first time he had killed, watching all these indications of life fade with satisfaction. Then there was the present, where he found himself (much to his own dismay) breathing and alive. The only real discomfort was a hoarse, sickening sound made by his healing trachea. Perhaps if he had waited just a few more seconds to reply he would have lost enough blood to be beyond help, and then he could have been six feet under the desert sand. In that small room, he quietly wished himself to die. But how foolish - his life belonged to one person, and that sweet release, marvelous freedom from mortality, could only be given by Him.

When Knives finalld end enter, he stood rather than sitting. An ever watchful predator, now staring at Legato with vicious crystalline pools, contemplating what would become of the human. The porcelain features gave no hint of emotion or intention, but even when the move seemed predictable, he was known to do the opposite. _"Do you know why you are here, Legato?" _

_"Because I disappointed you."_

_"And do you know why you disappoint me, Legato?" _The mental tone was intentionally smooth and slow, to keep that condescending feeling in it, as if he were speaking to a child.

_"Because I have failed."_

With a nod, Knives approached the bed and settled next to him, watching how his slave could barely keep himself from slinking back into the pillow he was propped up against. "Hyacinth," he muttered as he stroked back the oddly colored strands of hair, "That is what your hair reminds me of." His fingers brushed the flushing skin of Legato's cheek and noted, with much interest, how the breathing nearly stopped as he did so.

The dark eyebrows furrowed slightly at the words. _"What is that, Master?" _

"Hyacinthus orientalis," Knives responded, "is what the word comes from. Jacinth, as your race refers to it."

A small tinge of satisfaction filled Legato. Most words that came from those lips, anything spoken with favor, were meant for the ghost of another person he could never be. They would hit him just as harshly as a punishing hand, leaving him silently wishing he was someone else, _something_ else. But was that a compliment he had spoiled with a question..? One more lingering despair to add to endless memories of disappointment and frustration.. or would have been, if he hadn't been jolted out of his sudden thought by a new sensation. The smell of desert roses, or Adenium obesum, as his Master preferred to call them, clung intoxicatingly with each breath. He was only inches away, his head slightly tilted as he stared back into the golden irises, fingertips still tracing the structure of the human's face.

"You look like you're expecting something."

_"Never, Master."_

"Good. Do you know what I expect?" Legato shook his head, trying to focus. Petty human emotion would not overcome him. Not now. Not in the presence of his God. Not ever. "You will be healed and ready in twelve hours. There are much more important things for you to be doing than laying in bed. Understand?"

_"Of course, Master."_

How wonderful it was to have an ever-obedient slave, human or not. The Plant seemed content enough while considering his companion, no, pet - a dog that could speak and work, even if it took time, it needed only the basic guidelines. The human was content enough to be noticed and thought of in even the slightest favor, no matter how fleeting.

"Actually," Knives tilted the apprehensive slave's face upward. "I have a question for you, my blue rodent."

_"Whatever please you, Master."_

The thin lips jerked upward into a smirk, Knives leaning forward just another inch. "When you are alone at night, do you dream of me?"

Legato felt the blood rush to his cheeks, but dared not break away from the touch. _"Sometimes, Master.."_

"And what is it, that you dream?"

There was a single shred of dignity left in him, and his Master seemed bent on tearing it apart as he had done with the rest of him. He tried to think of an answer, quickly. No, don't hesitate. He knows.. _"Various things, Master, I.. cannot remember always.."_

"Well, sometimes, " Knives said softly as his lips began to curl into a smile, "I dream of all the different ways I could kill you."


	4. Abrasion Four

-Abrasion Four-

Something was wrong.

Not out of place, out of order, or even slightly off - _wrong._ There was a looming feeling in the back of Legato's mind that whatever this something was, while it did not concern him, it most definitely involved the Master. Knives paced in his room, hands clasped together in front of his mouth. Each passing moment brought Him further away from His brother, and He was never more aware of the fact than today, as He traced over both His twin's thoughts and scanned the mind of that damnable priest. He had been so absorbed in His other plans he hadn't taken time to notice the attachment between the two until the news had reached Him directly.

Legato finally became unnerved enough to find himself standing at the large doors of his Master's private chamber, silently contemplating whether knocking would mean another session of agony. There were several occasions he could recall where he smoothed away pain and calmed nightmares that plagued the Plant from time to time. Despite the uncertainty in the pit of his stomach, he knocked. The door opened. Knives stopped pacing and looked back at the human, eyes narrowing. The thought crossed his mind to send the telepath to retrieve Wolfwood and keep the priest dangling for hours from a vent above the door in a prison cell, almost insuring both shoulders and elbows to be dislocated, before shooting him and perhaps leaving him in the desert for the sand worms.

"It wouldn't do any good, would it?"

Legato shook his head at the image projected to him.

"I am beginning to think there is no winning in this war."

"If I might say, Master, there is no loss as of yet. Your brother can still be persuaded. I understand your despair -"

"You don't," Knives snapped, his tone changing fiercely. "How could you comprehend the loss of something that has taken nearly two of your lifetimes! You can't even comprehend your own existence."

"I apologize, Master. I was merely trying to say - "

"When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you," the harsh voice interrupted. "What could he find.. in a human ..that he could not find in me?" Legato knew better than to answer, and waited patiently for further instruction, if any at all. "History repeats itself. Every good intention has the opposite effect." The boots clicked across the floor furiously, leaving him to wonder where they were going, since he kept his eyes averted. To his surprise, the Plant stopped in front of him. "Stand up."

He brought himself to his feet silently.

"Look at me."

Hesitation, with good reason. There were few times he actually could stare back into those blue eyes, but he did. The expression on his Master's face was not what he expected. Rage, utter hatred for what he was - the usual feelings directed at him were missing. As far as he could tell, Knives seemed closer to tears. "Tell me," the Plant said softly, "What makes me imperfect?"

Legato's eyes widened, as if he were seeing the world crumble. "Master, you are the very embodiment of perfection. There is no flaw that dares crawl near your body or mind. There is nothing on this desolate planet that can come close to your beauty, strength, intelligence .."

"If that were true, Vash would not be in love with Chapel."

"If your brother cannot see the most wonderful thing ever given to him, then he does not deserve it."

His Master nodded wordlessly, turning and beginning to pace again. It hadn't occurred to Legato that he had spoke out of turn. He simply watched, worried more than anything at the subject of conversation. Knives stopped, and looked back at the waiting slave. "Come here."

Only two steps had been taken before Legato's wrist was grabbed and he was jerked forward into unfamiliar arms. Gold stared back at blue, glazed over with awe, until that porcelain face moved closer. Lips opened over those quivering, eager ones, just slightly, taking in a small taste. His grip relaxed, head tilted more. A more dominant tongue traced the outline of the other mouth like a teasing snake, while He stared back into the golden eyes with some amusement.

Legato felt as if he would collapse into the embrace. The gentleness, the intimacy, the sheer feeling of want and need; hunger for what he had never had. It was almost instinctual, the urge to caress and hold, to run his fingers through the blonde hair. But he was frozen, tasting only what his Master allowed him to. A small shudder from the long awaited contact, although he was careful not to let any of it be too obvious, fearing the kiss would end. He was slightly thankful those few nights with Midvalley were finally useful, taught him enough to keep him just a notch above inexperienced. Knives couldn't have cared less. He wanted to feel what was so appealing, so addictive about the little sexual acts His brother gained so much satisfaction from with that priest. The Plant brought his lips down to the thin flesh of the throat, kissing a scar made only days before.

The cynicism came back to His voice as He pulled away, leaving the human cold. "It's almost sickening to think how much he enjoys it. Don't you think, Legato?"

"Yes, Master."

Knives smirked, knowing the answer long before He even spoke. "But wouldn't you think the same of me?"

"No Master, I - "

"Or perhaps you think you have become more than human," Knives said with a look of disgust, the glare almost freezing Legato in his place.

He did not respond or move, although every muscle in his body urged him to. Master was so close now, he could feel the breath on his neck. Yes, please, _closer;_ his mind cried for it, but he prayed the Plant didn't hear. Then there was a sharp pain in his stomach, twisting and causing him to wretch. He didn't know exactly what had been done; the feeling like a solid, contorting hole in the center of him, but his Master simply smiled. Choking on the saliva and blood in his mouth, Legato fought the urge to vomit and forced his lungs to labor through the panic, commanding himself to look at the person that would surely be the end of him. The cold tile was almost soothing to the sticky, sweaty skin that made contact with it, calming the fever of the rushing blood as long as he let it. Master was watching him so closely, silently coercing him to stand and face Him. Reply, perhaps. It was all he could think of. "Never.. Master."

"We'll see, won't we?" Knives snarled in response, fingers twisting in Legato's hair. "Give me your arm." Extending Vash's arm, his gift, Legato winced as the Plant slapped it away. "_Your_ arm!"

He obeyed hesitantly, remaining still and watching the extended limb. The skin came off so smoothly, it was almost as if it were just a sheet cover. Knives jerked Legato, who was staring in both abject horror and utter fascination at his peeled arm. The blood delayed in rising, as if in shock itself, until after Legato flexed his fingers. Glancing over the wound, his Master only took interest in the exposed bone near the wrist, and of course, His slave's behavior. The human did not scream, plea, or struggle - fear did not exist in him. The knowledge was pleasing enough. Releasing His grip, He watched the tired body slump forward into another heap, still silent. It was beautiful, this thing that bent to His will, bleeding quietly, accepting everything he was given.

He could count how many times he had felt the desire in the pit of his gut, each small minute spent - whether in pain or in comfort, for pain was bliss and comfort itself - was a treasured memory, with every detail delicately carved into his soul. Lips connected with his; yes, those delicate lips that he longed to taste again and have for himself. Legato was alone, gasping for breath. He tried to hide the disappointment in his stare as he watched Knives begin to stand. The need had built up, nearly toppling over his lips in a whimper, perhaps even a question, if he hadn't clamped his mouth shut tighter.

"Get out."

Not a moment was wasted. Legato retreated from the room, not stopping to breathe until he reached the bottom of the staircase. He stood, shaking, telling himself it couldn't have been anything but a dream. But that taste was still in his mouth, and he wanted _more._


	5. Contusion Five

-Contusion Five-

"You expect something from _me, _as if I were your equal?"

"Never, Master." The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room.

"It's such a nauseating intimation," Knives murmured as He walked past the kneeling human. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for something Legato couldn't see. Perhaps Master would beat him further. It had been days since he had felt even a bruising grip on his wrist, and oh, he craved it, because yes, his Master was merciful and yes, yes, it felt _that _good, so good that he could barely stand it, and became harder at the thought of it. "Lucky for you, there is no human behavior that cannot be corrected, no will that cannot be bent, and no desire that cannot be satisfied."

Legato breathed irregularly, the blood rushing to his face even though he knew the Plant wasn't looking at him.

"Come here."

Those two words always promised a new kind of pleasure. He brought himself to his feet slowly, approaching the bedside like an altar, and resuming his kneeling position. He watched the pale hands work and toy with some object, before placing it on the small table beside the bed.

"We're going to play a game." The clock was turned toward Legato, who let all the possibilities linger in his mind. "Since I've always thought of you as a dog, I'm going to treat you like one," Knives began with His face still void of emotion,"On my own terms, of course. If you can remove my boots, only using your teeth, in one point five minutes, then I will allow you to touch me."

Legato stared in disbelief, from the Plant's face back to the boots, with various fastenings and two zippers along each side. The pale hand reached over and pressed a small grey button on the clock.

"Go."

At once Legato bent to pull at one strap with his mouth, keeping his palms flat on the floor. He could hear his Master laugh and it made him concentrate harder; that fastening came loose surprisingly fast, and he moved to the next, and the next, the lining digging into his gums and causing them to bleed. Struggling, he bit as lightly as he could on the end of the shoe, pulling it until he fell backward with it hanging from his bloody mouth. The next seemed to last forever, between the pounding in his head and the sound of his Master's soft laughing, he tried to shut it out and breath, tugging, straining, and pulling.

Panting, gums and lips torn and bleeding, Legato fell backward with the boot just as the clock sounded.

Knives beckoned with a slender hand, His lips curling just enough to be called a smirk, while laying down on the bed. And the human slinked forward, still apprehensive and trembling as he reached out, first sliding his fingers over and down his Master's shoulder. His other hand, under the amorous stare of two sapphires, brushed against the sculpted muscles of the Plant's stomach and lower, down over the right hip bone, before Knives gripped his wrist firmly. Legato glanced back at his Master's face, calm and collected, trying to read it for a command. He found himself pulled forward, lips meeting awkwardly with the other set that quickly clamped and dominated. Knives' tongue lapped at the bloody corners of his mouth, the feeling swallowing him as he sat. Pale hands glided over and down his clothing, peeling off the garments in an engrossing display of their unknown skill. Not a single word spoken, but Legato needed no instruction. He wanted it, oh god, he wanted it, he wanted _Him_; to be devoured, mind and body. Legato knew better than to cry and moan, to enjoy it, because at the very moment his passion was exposed, it would be taken away.

The crystalline irises faded behind eyelids fluttering shut, lips parting just enough to let the voice escape through. Their bodies fit so perfectly, limbs mirroring each muscle, flawless feature after flawless feature. Hips rolled against the more imperfect set, back straining with every moment to apply more pressure. Deeper now, deeper, deepest. Knives never released his mouth, moaning into it as He moved. The other muscles tensed, ready for release, and He rode with more force, urging the same feeling into the enraptured human. Breaking off their kiss, He punctuated the final thrust with a cry of ecstasy, His nails digging into the flesh of Legato's shoulders.

Heaven, defined in any dictionary, would have been that sweet sensation of his Master, and he wanted so bad to let Him know. The sound that came from his throat was reflexive, hoarse, and desperate to escape.

For the first time, Midvalley heard _Legato_ scream. It was not from a nightmare or shock, he knew - something raw and hollow and vocalized unwillingly. It was the most terrible sound he had ever heard.


	6. Hemorrhage Six

-Hemorrhage Six-

It seemed nearly impossible to sweat in the damp cell, but the droplets defied Legato's simple thought and continued to roll down his body. There was no particular reason for his suffering he could find, replaying the events of the day over one hundred times in his head. Then again, he wondered what he ever did to earn constant torture. Even in this moment as he sat alone, his blood making swirling pools on the floor, he never forgot his sin: he was human. His eyes followed to the only unscarred part of his body, that limb that wasn't his own. Unscarred, but not completely untouched, he realized upon examination, the index and thumb had been bent awkwardly enough to fracture each in two places. Master had twisted the heel of his boot on the digits upon leaving, (intentionally choosing that hand, Legato gathered) as a small reminder of his twin's recent treachery.

_-_

_"Pain and suffering," Knives muttered, without looking at his kneeling slave, "And an early death to the priest."_

_"As you wish, Master.."_

-

He could hear the familiar footsteps. Although they were not calculated to be perfect, each step was made with the same amount of pressure, registering the same sound every time, making it easily recognizable. Legato attempted to stand, failing and slamming painfully against the wall. The Plant did not so much as wince at the sight or sound. He kneeled to look the human eye to eye, turning his head just slightly, like an inquiring parrot. "I'm tired of waiting."

Legato nodded, licking the blood from his lips. _"There will be no failure this time, Master. Midvalley and I will leave within the hour."_

"Considering we have run out of cards to play, I hope so."

Another nod, and he let his golden eyes fall back to the floor. Failure meant death. In the past he had proved himself useful enough to evade the sentence, exchanging that sweet release from life for hours of unrelenting pain, but now his Master was impatient. One of the perfect fingers tilted his face upward, delicately tracing the jaw. "You won't disappoint me will you, Legato?"

_"Never, Master."_

Knives smiled with a wicked beauty that made Legato cringe. "Good. You know how I _hate_ to be disappointed.."


	7. The Last Scar

-I don't remember every detail in episode 24 and I couldn't find a summary with the actual dialogue, so I improvised. I'm also pretty lazy when it comes down to describing events everybody already knows took place, so if it seems cut short on the elaboration, I'll let you in on a secret(si ti) Hope you enjoyed the fic. (Apologies to all the otakus who read this and scream 'That's NOT what he said!')-

* * *

-The Last Scar- 

He waited, listening to the sound of suicide outside of L.R. He might have cried for Midvalley, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. Vash the Stampede was approaching, and the final confrontation was at hand. His moment of triumph. No - his Master's moment of triumph. Legato couldn't help but smile as the outlaw came into view, bruised and battle worn with a look of pure anguish. Beautiful.

He had begun a slow speech, interrupted by gunshots; one pierced his left shoulder, the other three intentionally aimed to miss. It was unexpected. Perhaps death, the only thing he longed for more than his Master's love, would come quicker than he had hoped. The aquamarine eyes staring down at him spoke a silent apology, and he almost laughed. Superiority, and all its blessings, abused. "Kill me."

"No," Vash said firmly, lowering his gun.

"We should have died a long time ago. You know you must end it now. Kill me." Legato raised a hand, eyes still connected with the Plant's, mentally forcing that dreaded transformation. The brilliant light floods, assuring victory - until Vash wills it back with a short cry. Yet again, denial of what was meant to be.

"Your faith is hopelessly obstinate," Legato sighed, "to actually believe in the prattling of a woman who spoke in idealistic terms that are worthless." Vash gritted his teeth, continuing to aim at the telepath's head. "I guess that kind of thinking is reasonable for someone who has lived for more than a century." He paused, watching the features in the other face tense. "But, that…that way of life is pathetic, even comical! Rem Saverem.. a wasted existence who only spoke in aggravating logic."

The inhabitants of the city were always helpful, but those insurance girls, now off to the side awaiting their deaths screaming for Vash. Help. Please. Soon, he would be broken - his nerves were unraveling.

"Kill me."

A tear rolled down the bruised cheek, and a finger tightened on the trigger. Legato bowed his head. His small tribute to his Master, whom he knew was watching and waiting. He thought of everything he had ever wanted. He remembered all the things he had been given, and never asked for.

Legato projected a single thought to the Plant as the shot rang out over Gunsmoke. _-I love you.-_

And Knives began to laugh.


End file.
